


Little Pistol

by casstayinmyass



Series: Tully's Babygirl [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Bikers, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub Undertones, During Canon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lap Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Prison Sex, Rough Sex, Season/Series 07, Strip Tease, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22439965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: You travel to Stockton for a conjugal visit with Tully. The two of you have been apart too long for formalities.
Relationships: Marilyn Manson/Reader, Ron Tully/Reader
Series: Tully's Babygirl [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614799
Kudos: 17





	Little Pistol

Tully had been on the boards for a visit for six months. There are a lot of things he can bribe the guards for, like rooms to talk business with his guys, private lines on the phone, and a general prison-wide acceptance that no one would fuck with him unless it really _was_ the law. What he can’t bribe anyone for though, is a wait bypass for a conjugal visit. His name is on the list like the rest of them, and even though he’d pay a pretty penny to see you monthly, it’s just not something he can do.

Now, having waited quite a bit of time, Tully’s “good behavior” had paid off. The next day was his visit with you, which would last a day.

“You seem happy,” the guy behind him in the communal washrooms mentions. No one talks to Tully much, for fear of what he’d do to them if he wasn’t in the mood, but this guy was the prison idiot, and Tully didn’t mind his chatter now and then. The taller man is washing his face in the sink, shaving his growing facial hair a little and trimming his hair.

“I am.”

The guy smirks. “Can I ask why?”

Tully drags the plastic razor down his chin, inspecting himself. He didn’t want to shave it too close, since you always said you liked his stubble… liked the way it felt between your thighs. Tully’s small smile grows a little, and he dunks the razor in water. It had cost him a couple fifties to be allowed to clean up a little with actually helpful instruments of hygiene this morning. 

“I’m seeing my girl tonight.” He gestures to his things, and the guy goes over, finding a polaroid of you in a black bra and panties, posing on top of Tully’s bike.

“Shit. With a body like that, what makes you think she’s still your girl?” the guy chuckles. Tully doesn’t dignify the man with a look. 

“It’s not like that.” He takes some scissors from his sleeve, trimming his black hair close to his temple. “She’d die for me. And I’d die protecting her.” The guy’s still staring at the polaroid of you when Tully’s done his haircut. “Alright, put it the fuck down, or I'mma have you stabbed during the next riot.”

He takes the photo, and feels himself stir already. His eyes run over your perfect tits, down your legs, to the thin black fabric covering that pussy he knows so well. He sets the photo that he’d touched himself to many times by the mirror, and his gaze drifts up to check his reflection. He’d never really considered himself to be a handsome man, which is why he became powerful instead, but you seemed to think he was the sexiest man alive. He didn’t mind that. 

“Lucky you get a visit,” the guy mutters. Tully hums. 

“I almost didn’t. See, you’re not supposed to get visits from anyone outside of family. Technically, I haven’t married (y/n) yet. But, I pulled some strings. ’S what I do.”

“Mm, yeah. See, I don’t got any girlfriends or nothing like that. Last visit I got was my mom, back in ‘07. Got banned til the end of my sentence cause my mama tried to plant weed on me. Guess she likes the quiet around the house...”

Tully, not really listening, grunts in response. He then does up another button on his blue shirt, and looks down at the picture again, really studying it. He remembers the way you screamed his name while he fucked you over that motorcycle that day. He takes it as a personal challenge to raise even more hell tonight. 

—

You sit in the diner in Stockton, California. You’d traveled up here with a few of the guys who work for your boyfriend, since they had to do some work anyway, smooth some shit out before Tully caught wind of it and had their heads. They knew to take good care of you, or they’d pay for that with their life too. You yourself are about to go see Tully, and you can’t wait. It had been so long.

Dressed in a little white crop top, a short black skirt, and sunglasses, you’re feeling your best. You know ever since he got the news he’d been scheduled for a conjugal, Tully’s probably had tonight in mind day and night, and what you wear won’t alter the fact that he’s going to give you the best pounding you’ve ever taken. But you want to wow him too. He hasn’t seen you for the better part of a year, after all, and to get a real good reaction out of him, you need the element of surprise. 

“Want another milkshake, hun?” a kind, older waitress with smile lines and grey hair asks. You smile back.

“Love one.”

You tap your nails on the table, watching out the window at the people walking by in the heat. You’re used to living in Southern California, since Tully’s the shot caller and doesn’t go out on rides, but he conducts business up here in the northern part of the state sometimes. Liaisons, stuff like that. The county jail he does his time in is unfortunately pretty far away from the reclusive home you two share in San Diego. Still, you keep busy and make do while he’s gone, keep an eye on how things are run in his absence. It’s what you have to do to stay sane.

“Don’t mean to bother you. But can I ask what your tattoos mean?” the waitress asks, sliding you another of your favorite flavor of milkshake.

You glance down at your knuckles, which have T U L L Y tattooed across them, a letter per finger.

“My man,” you say wistfully.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, noticing the sorrow in your eyes, “Did he pass away?”

“No,” you smile, “He’s just away right now, doing time.”

“Shit, no kidding. My husband’s been in for two years now, serving another five. Kills me every day.”

You move your stuff to one side of the table. “Sit, if you want.” The lady checks her watch, and sits across from you. “I hate it,” you confess, “It’s the worst. It’s the life I chose to get involved in, but it’s rough when it actually comes back to hit you at night, when you don’t have their arms around you.”

“I know just what you mean, hun. Probably shouldn’t be saying this, but… my husband is an arms dealer, works in the gun trade. Under the table deals out in San Pedro, all that." 

"My Tully’s a shot caller,” you say, not elaborating any further on his gang or who he’s affiliated with. This lady seems nice, but you’re never sure who could be an undercover cop, or the wife of a rival gang member. 

“You’re visiting him, then?” she asks.

“Yes. Tonight.”

“Baby, you have the time of your life tonight, you hear me?”

“Oh, you know I will,” you giggle, “When he hasn’t seen me for a while, things get very physical.”

“I can imagine.” She winks. 

You hand her a Polaroid you’ve got in your leather jacket pocket; Tully’s got the other one from this day. In this one, you’re dressed in black panties and a black bra, and you’re sitting on Tully’s lap, straddling him. The photo shows the backside of you, showing off your backside, and Tully has got his face looking over your shoulder, glaring darkly as his fingers sink into the flesh of your ass. It’s a photo of the two of you that never fails to turn you on, especially recalling how hard he fucked you over his bike after this picture was taken. 

You sigh, twirling the straw. “He’s my ride or die… and I’m his forever girl.”

–

Finally, it comes time for the guards to collect Tully. They know exactly what he’s going to do to you, as they’re the ones who have had to listen to Tully groan your name every morning and night whenever he gets the urge.

“Well. If nothing else, this has been a long time coming,” one guard sighs. 

“Yeah. I guess. Just don’t make too much noise,” the other guard pleads. Tully glances at him.

“I don’t remember payin’ you off to tell me how to fuck my girlfriend.” 

The guy concedes, keeping his mouth shut and his eyes down. The power dynamic was clear, and it would be clear to any onlooker. The two guards let him into the room, far away from the other rooms and the best one money can buy (Tully at least had _some_ sphere of influence in the department of visitation), and they go to close the door. “She’ll be in in a minute.”

Tully undoes the top three buttons of his shirt in preparation, and waits.

—

You get a pat down in the lobby of the conjugal area. They take out a gold switchblade and a couple of metal and sparkling rings Tully's bought you with gang money, leaving your pockets empty. Their eyes linger over the diamonds encrusted in the expensive rings, the implication obvious. You raise your eyebrow at them in challenge, but nothing can be said on the matter. When you're all ready to go in, the guards let you in, and you see Tully sitting on the bed. He looks up.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” you grin. One of the guards steps in.

“24 hours, Tully. Make it count.” He shuts the door after himself, locking it, and you look around. It’s almost like a normal home– there’s a mini fridge, a bed, a TV, and a living area.

“I missed you,” you say, and walk over to him. He accepts you into his lap, and you cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

“So did I,” he murmurs against your lips. “You doing good? Looking after the boys, making sure they’re doing their jobs?” You nod. “Good. They’re a bunch of jokes when I’m not around.”

“Well, now that nobody’s around… am I correct in thinking you wouldn’t say no to a strip tease?” you ask, snapping the strap on your bra underneath your shirt.

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting back on the couch. You slowly take your shirt up over your head, watching as his eyes fall down to admire your breasts.

“You like that?” you murmur, bunching your hair up a little as you slide your fingers downward. 

“Thought of me while you did that the last few months?”

“Nuh uh,” you grin, “Trying to trick me? I know I can only cum when you tell me to.”

“That’s right,” he smiles fondly, watching your hips swing back and forth. You finally rub the finger between your legs, and get on the edge of the bed, pulling your panties to one side. You hear the low hitch in Tully’s breath, and you sink your fingers into yourself, loving the feel but craving the stretch of your boyfriend.

You dip your fingers in again, lips parting as you moan. “Gonna join in?”

“Right now I’m just going to sit here and watch, babygirl. Seeing you do it in person is a nice change. Your moans are fuckin’ beautiful, but a visual always helps.” He gives one of his dark smirks, and sits there, watching. You feel the heat rise even more as his eyes travel, your skin heating up just knowing he’s appreciating the show you’re putting on. You let his name escape your lips with a sigh. “My beautiful little slutty girl,” he murmurs, and unzips his pants as you watch in feverish arousal. He takes his cock out, and starts to pump it slowly in his hand while you watch, shoving your fingers deeper. Your eyes are trained on his fist, where it’s jerking up and down. He lifts his chin.

“Look at that,” he starts to stroke a little faster, “All you, baby.” You flip over, not reaching enough depth in this position, and sit on your fingers, letting them disappear deeper into your pussy. Tully sits forward, intense gaze trained, unblinking, on where your hips are slamming down. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” You ride your fingers harder, “You like that? You like that, baby?”

“S good, sweetheart.” He moans, squeezing himself. “Fuckin’ tease.”

“Get over here and pound me then,” you say, licking your lips obscenely. He finally stands, and grabs you by your hair. You groan as he drags you over to the bed, where he shoves you down onto the soon-to-be-destroyed mattress.

“You wanna feel daddy’s cock?” he asks, and you crawl forward, stroking up the length of it. He lets you for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your hands on his dick again, but eventually urges you off again. He crawls onto the bed between your legs, and pushes your thighs far apart, exposing your soaking pussy to him.

“This is all mine,” he whispers, “You know this cunt belongs to me.” He hums. “I own a lotta things, and this here’s one of em.” 

“Yeah, daddy,” you breathe, and he seals his lips over you, upper lip teasing your clit while his tongue dips in and out of you. _Fuck._ One thing among many that can be said about Tully, is he knows how to eat you out spectacularly.

“That’s good, that’s good,” you start chanting, “Please… sir, please…”

He groans, and the vibrations make your clit throb. “Imma take good care of you, babygirl, don’t you worry,” he assures softly, eyes glowering up from between your legs, “Take good care of my girl. She deserves it. Deserves gettin’ fucked good too. Don’t you?" 

"Yeah…” you whine. 

“You’ve been a real good girl, waiting for daddy. Only cumming when he’s talking to you on the phone. You know the rules." 

"Daddy,” you gasp, feeling your orgasm build, “I-I have a confession.” Your voice sounds so small, and your tone is airy in your breathless state.

“Mmm? Tell me, sweetheart.”

“You won’t be mad?”

“That depends.” He strokes soothing hands up your calves, and you shudder, flashes of his punishments running through your head.

“I was… in the jacuzzi with the girls the other night. I was thinking of you, and… thinking of what you’d do if you were there. I was wearing your favorite bikini. The one that’s translucent, so you can see my nipples?" 

"Mmhmmm.”

“And…” You wiggle your hips, chasing your release at the mercy of Tully’s tongue. “And I… well, the jets just felt so good, I… mmm!”

“Tell daddy,” he encourages with a growl.

“I let the pressure make me cum in my swimsuit, imagining it was you.” You let out a moan as his tongue licks a stripe up from the base to the tip of your clit.

He hums. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I understand. Some things just can’t be helped. I know you tried.” You exhale, uncomfortable waves of arousal washing over you. You wish he’d fill you up. “I’m proud of you, you know.” You look down at him again. “You’re so brave. I’m in here, you’re all alone. I wish I could be there for you, remind you every day why you’ll always be mine.”

“You are there for me. When you can be. You bribe the guards with your hard earned cash to get ten minutes on a call with me, to check in, make sure I’m alright. You’re in here getting shit done, and I’m running things at home. It’s how we do it.”

“Mmyeah. But I’d much rather be back in the game than calling the shots in here. In a perfect world, nothing would stand between us. Two of us against the world.”

“Together as one,” you smile, arching your back.

Tully shares your smile, as he presses soft kisses all the way up to just barely graze your cunt again. “Against all others.” He nips at the dip in your hipbone. “Mm. Babygirl, when I’m out, I'mma do this… every night. That’s a motherfuckin’ promise.”

You grind your hips toward his mouth, and he holds them down firmly against the mattress as he launches a proper maneuver on your clit, making you cum in seconds. You ride it out, hands fisting in his hair. He crawls over top of you, staring down at you like he’s about to devour you. You don’t doubt that he is. 

You part your legs even more, and he picks them up, throwing them over his shoulder and holding your hips up. He guides himself to line up with your dripping cunt, and pushes into you easily with a low grunt, your first orgasm having slicked you up perfectly. Each following thrust is harder than the previous; Tully isn’t wasting time. Already sensitive, you feel the second orgasm building. Desperate, you run your hand through your hair, getting it out of your face.

“I need it, fuck Tully, I need your cock!” you practically shout, and his grunts increase in volume as he dedicates all his energy to making sure he uses you properly. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy?” you ask innocently.

“Oh, you know I will.”

“Fucking do it then.”

“You’re a mouthy one, sweetheart,” he moans, and he throws his head back, biting his bottom lip hard. “You test me.”

“You love it.” 

“I tolerate it… cuz I love you so fucking much… ohhff, shit…” 

“Look at me when you cum?” you gasp breathlessly. He obliges, jet black hair hanging and jolting with his tattooed body as he puts all his weight behind fucking you as deep as he can. He looks you in your eyes as your own eyelids droop in desire, and he gasps your name as you both reach your peaks together. 

You hum softly in contentment, and climb on top of his larger frame, laying on his chest. He puts an arm over you, body rising and falling with labored breath.

“What do you want to do now?” you tease. He looks down at you, brushing your matted hair aside affectionately. 

“We still got 23 hours left. You do the math.” 


End file.
